Search and Destroy
by Bizzare-at-heart
Summary: When Clint Barton finds the one and only Winter Soldier on his tail, he expects the soviet assassin to be out for his blood. What he finds instead is a broken man looking for answers...and revenge. (post CATWS, no-slash, T for language)
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** Hey there, if you enjoy please follow + review as I may not continue this if no one is reading._

_Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

_Grab your gun, time to go to hell_

_I'm no hero guilty as charged_

_Search and Destroy_

* * *

The flames ate away at the file he threw in the barrel. The burning brown folder contained what was left of Clint's life at SHIELD, well, what hadn't been dumped on the internet by a certain redhead that is. Clint wasn't ashamed to say he took some very highly classified missions, and had worked with people who had to resort to SHIELD to protect them. Just like Natasha told him, it was best to destroy the files - that only the two of them possessed - if the people they saved all those years back were going to live.

He didn't let the memories get to his head as he poked the fire and watched the flames lick the side of the barrel as the last pages disintegrated. When Clint finally raised his head, the sky showed the hints of dawn. A pale yellow lit up the horizon lined with the many buildings of Manhattan.

If he was being honest, he didn't know why he stayed in New York after the battle. Even after Stark's invite to stay at the tower, all Clint wanted to do was get out of the wrecked city and find a place in some backwater state. He was actually packing his scarce belongings on the helicarrier when Stark decided to give his address to a terrorist and, well everyone knows what happened there. While Clint stayed out of the way, he still felt obliged to follow the billionaire to Tennessee and make sure he didn't do anything _too _stupid. He was still an Avenger after all.

So when Stark returned to New York, so did Clint. The three-room apartment wasn't much, but it was all he needed. Clint filled his ''Holiday'' with trying to organize his clusterfuck of a life SHIELD had given him.

He'd actually been doing well when SHIELD went to hell. Fury had given him a call just before they blew up the Triskelion, a few minutes to order him to stay low and say that Natasha and Captain tight-pants were handling the situation. A call that had riled him up more than it calmed him down.

That was a week ago. Last night he walked into his apartment to find his partner watching a Friends rerun and drinking his last beer. Even though he knew she wanted to stay, they both knew better. They were two assassins who worked with a secret organization that just had all it's secrets spilled, going dark was the only logical action.

Clint remembered her swift departure from the apartment, her hair - which she had left unstraightened - swirling behind her as she took the stairs two at a time.

With a sigh he put out the dying embers and shouldered his bag, turning to take the stairs back to the third floor.

_*Ding*_

Clint's mentally thanked his hearing aids as the sound hit his ears and the small metal pendant caught his sight. With a sad smile he picked it up by it's leather strap, and folded his fingers around the silver disc.

The pendant itself was about the size of a quarter and the thin leather strung through a hole at the top was just long enough to go around his neck, but it what was engraved in the metal that mattered to Clint. While the red paint had long ago worn off, the dainty shape of a spider still remained, eternally etched in the smooth silver.

Clint let his smile fall as his mind trailed to his absent partner.

_She'll be okay, Clint._ He reminded himself. _She knows what shes doing._

The next wave of distress had nothing to do with the necklace as he shoved it in his pocket and entered the stairwell that led to his apartment, swiftly unlocking and locking his door in under a minute.

Clint was an expertly trained marksman, assassin, and agent. He knew when he was being watched.

* * *

Less than a block away from Clint's apartment, curious eyes watched the archer retreat indoors and out of sight.

_He was SHIELD. He knows her. He knows the captain._

He let his eyes fall shut, blocking out the glare of the morning sun.

_But does he know who I am? _He thought as he clenched the window sill with his left hand, the old wooden frame giving way to the metal of his cursed arm.

* * *

Clint woke to an overly cheerful radio presenter greeting him through his alarm clock radio. With a groggy moan he rolled over and hit the snooze, cursing the unforgiving mattress as his back tweaked with the movement. Clint ungracefully stood and did a quick analysis of his surroundings. The handgun he stuffed under his pillow earlier was still there, all it's bullets in place. Whoever had been watching him on the rooftop had clearly not made a move in the last few hours. Still, he felt calmer once he tucked a small knife into the waistband of his pants.

After a scalding coffee and leftover pizza, Clint decided against a morning run and grabbed his bow and quiver instead.

Taking the stairs back up to the rooftop, he ran through what he knew. They must have known he lived in the building, but the roof was the only time he left his home in the last week as he had abandoned his usual morning runs following SHIELD's fallout. So that meant whoever it was had likely read some classified info on his whereabouts, which narrowed it down to about...7 billion people thanks to Natasha. Clint assumed that it was someone who he had a problem with, whether it be Hydra, SHIELD, or someone from his contract days. He sighed as that didn't narrow it down as much as he'd liked. The door to the rooftop creaked open and Clint appreciated the waft of cool air that met him.

With a deep breath Clint strapped on his quiver and hooked his bow over his head. He knew he needed to check out the near by buildings - the only way anyone could have seen him from the rooftop. Ruling out the ones two-stories or below, Clint started his round by leaping to the wall of the hotel across from him.

His days in the circus had given him his ability to scale buildings, and SHIELD had refined those skills to the point where he was climbing around the block with ease while still keeping watch. Fifteen minutes of jumping, climbing, and a couple of near-death experiences left Clint with just one building left. It was an abandoned apartment block that had mostly housed pigeons and the homeless for the last few years. He was actually about to disregard it when he realized it had a perfect vantage point on the north side of the fourth floor. A few broken windows faced Clint's apartment almost directly, and would have given whoever stood there a view of both the rooftop and a window in his room.

It took him a few minutes to reach the roof of the abandoned building, and he landed on the weathered concrete with a forward roll to deal with the force. The only access to the inside was a rusting iron door with a faded trespassing warning sign. With ease Clint pushed open the door (he clearly wasn't the only one to ignore the sign) and stepped into the building's main stairwell.

As the door shut, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he made his way down.. Each step felt like the rotting wood could have given way to his weight, but Clint made it to the fourth floor with little trouble. A flock of pigeons took flight as he approached the north end of the hallway, bow in hand. The hallway opened up to an empty and unfinished room, with wooden frames where walls were once to go and the glass scattering the floorboards from years of weather taking out the windows.

Clint stepped towards the window he saw from outside, and found out he was right. The frame held a view of Clint's building so well he could see his neighbor in her kitchen. He was sure that whoever was watching him stood here, as he noted the scuff marks on the floor where a thick layer of dust once lay. Absentmindedly, he reached for the window sill. His gaze dropped when he touched a patch of splintered wood. The wood could have given way to anything, but as Clint covered the patch with his hand, he found a series of holes where his fingers touched the frame. _They were here alright, _Clint concluded. _But how did they crush the wood like that? _

His thoughts halted as he felt the familiar wave of anxiety wash over him.

_They're still here. _

As he turned his head behind him, his fingers reached for an arrow from his quiver. He drew the arrow's shaft back to his cheek when a pair of pigeons took off down the hall. The sound of flapping wings was followed by a series of footsteps. Lowering his bow by an inch, Clint stepped back out into the hallway as his training kicked in. He let his eyes examine the scene as he took a few slow steps forward. Anyone else would have missed the shadow move across the far wall - but Clint wasn't just anyone. He raised his bow again and made his way past the staircase, stopping just short of the corner.

Now Clint could hear the quick, quiet breaths of his stalker just around the corner. He was about to make a move when a strained voice broke the air.

"Leave now, and there won't be any trouble." The voice confused Clint for a moment. There was a clear American accent, but he heard a hint of …. _Russian? _The moment passed and Clint took his chance, Stepping out in front of the man.

"Not too sure about that. You see, I'm a sucker for trouble, sweetheart." He barely got a look at the man before a force like a truck hit him and threw his body back into the wall, his bow flying uselessly to the side.

''_Ow.. fuck...'' _Clint took a moment to recover from the sudden attack to think. The glimpse he got at his face wasn't much, but it was all he needed. Although it was hard to tell with the beard, Clint didn't need his SHIELD training to recognize that face. After all, Natasha had just shown him his file less than twelve hours ago. The file she was going to give to Steve.

Clint didn't let the shock of meeting the Winter Soldier get to him as he ran after the man up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's note:_**_ Thank you so much to the people who read the last chapter! It was a much better reaction that I had expected :D and I already have a decent start on chapter 3. _

_So again, favorite and follow if you want to see this story continue, or leave a review with any thoughts :)_

_Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

_Holy shit he's fast. _Was all Clint could think of as he burst out of the stairwell and onto the roof. Barnes was already at the edge, his eyes darting between Clint and the alleyway five stories below.

Clint took the man's hesitation to finally get a good look at him. Whatever happened at the Triskelion had clearly caught up with his body. His face looked so sickly Clint swore he could have collapsed right there, and his whole body seemed to shake frantically as he held his right arm awkwardly to his chest. He couldn't help but glance at the other arm, the one mentioned in the file, with it's metal fingers poking out of his sweatshirt.

For Clint, the worst part wasn't his appearance. It was the haunting sense of Deja vu that kept him frozen where he stood. His mind trailed back to all those years ago where the person in front of him was a fiery red-head, a woman whose story was not unlike his own. An assassin who had been used so many times she forgot who she was before.

_Unmade._

Clint saw the same desperate longing in Barnes eyes, the one that made him decide to throw his bow to the ground.

As soon as the metal hit the concrete Barnes's face furrowed in confusion, and Clint took his chance.

"I know who you are. Let me help you." For a moment, Clint was sure his words worked as the man stepped down from the edge. However as soon as Clint relaxed and took a step towards him, he snapped. His eyes darting away as if he realized something. In a split second, he turned and started to step off the edge.

It was that desperation Clint saw that made him ignore the fact that he was helping one of the world's most deadly assassins and run forward.

Clint barely had a chance to call out as he ran. His fingers just grasped Barnes hand as he dangled down the side of the building, and he knew before the yell pierced the air that he had grabbed the wrong arm. The sound lasted a second before Barnes was desperately trying to grasp the smooth surface of the wall with his free hand, failing as the metal scratched uselessly at the concrete.

Clint didn't think twice when he threw his other hand down.

"Take it!" His voice strained as he reached down. It took a moment longer than he liked as he struggled with the man's weight, but Barnes gave up and Clint felt the cold grasp of his metal hand. With a groan he pulled him up. They both lay on the roof, Barnes hunched over on his knees and holding his right shoulder while Clint sat back and watched him. Silence filled the next few minutes as both men tried to grasp what had just happened.

When Barnes finally looked up at Clint, his eyes lacked the frantic gaze of before, now the man just looked at him with curiosity.

"Why?" Barnes croaked out.

"Uh... no," Clint started. "I get to ask that first." The man looked taken aback as he sat up to face Clint. "Why the hell were _you _watching _me?_"

The truth was that Clint turned the tables simply because he couldn't admit what he saw in Barnes. He hadn't even told Natasha the full story as to why he made that call on her life, and he definitely wasn't ready to tell the man in front of him.

"I… I thought you might... " Barnes couldn't finish his words, but Clint knew the truth.

"Help you?"

"Maybe." Barnes Sighed as Clint watched on. "But why did you? If you know who I am...what I've done… you should have let me fall." His last words forced Clint to look away as he thought.

It was Clint's turn to sigh as he answered. "Maybe one day I'll tell you, but right now?" He got to his feet. "You have a choice, you let me take a look at that arm and we'll take it from there..."

"Or?" Barnes stood up and looked Clint in the eyes.

"You piss off." Clint couldn't help the small smirk that came. "And if we're lucky, you won't hear from me again."

Barnes turned and started to wonder around the rooftop, lost in thought.

_A choice. _He mused. It was almost funny, for years all he could remember was orders, being treated as a weapon without a mind of his own. Then all of a sudden he finds a man who offers him a _choice._ He knew the man had some dark secrets that rivaled his own, just the way he walked screamed a history death and blood. _But can I trust him?_

He was pulled out of his thoughts when his eyes caught the other man collecting his bow from the ground. For a second, Barnes tensed, thinking he would finally use the weapon, but relaxed when he only hooked it over his shoulder.

Clint noticed the change and made his own decision, realizing that pushing him would only make things worse.

"Look kid, I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to do. God knows you've had enough of that already." Clint admitted. "Whatever you decide, well, you _do_ know where I live."

Clint let his words hang in the silence as he turned away from the man and into the stairwell, not knowing if he'd ever see Barnes again.

* * *

Clint's last arrow struck the target with deadly precision. If there was one thing that could calm him down no matter what, it was making perfect shots - or showing off as Natasha had called it.

Clint collected the arrow as a thunderstorm rolled on and pummeled the windows with rain. It had been a full seven hours since his encounter with the Winter Soldier, and three hours since he had given up waiting for a knock at his door. A particularly loud crash of thunder led Clint over to the stereo, where he turned up the Guns n' Roses CD to drown out the passing storm. Throwing himself onto the couch, the archer ran a hand down his face. Two hours of sleep was not enough to keep his body running for a whole day. Not bothering to take his hearing aids out, Clint let his consciousness fade.

Before he even opened his eyes, Clint reached his hand back to grasp the hilt of his knife. His sudden fear had nothing to do with the psychopathic Norse god that often haunted his dreams. He risked a glance at his surroundings with narrowed eyes as he tried to determine the source of his unease. It took a moment longer than it should have, as his head cleared from the grogginess of sleep, but Clint eventually focused on the stereo to his left. The CD was still playing, the outdated machine delivering the notes of _Paradise City. _What tightened his hand around the knife was the fact that it was playing at a considerably lower volume than what he had fallen asleep to.

Clint didn't fully register his actions as he saw the shadow move across the wall. In one swift movement, he stood and hurled the knife towards the kitchen behind him, watching as it dug into the wall next to the fridge. Seeing his intruder, he released the breath he'd been holding and mentally thanked himself for not aiming at the man's head. A moment passed before either man spoke.

"You made up your mind?" Clint asked, breaking the silence between the two men.

"One condition." Barnes started. "You help me find what I'm looking for, then I'm gone. No questions."

The archer took a moment to process the man's words before he answered, not entirely sure if he was doing the right thing.

"Deal. Now let me check out that arm."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note:** Thank you to all who favorited/followed/reviewed last chapter :) This one's a bit longer and has a healthy dose of brainwashed assassins wump for you all :)_

_Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Clint had to give the guy some credit, popping a shoulder back into place was as painful as it sounded. Yet as he heard the ugly _*crack* _of the joint, Barnes didn't even flinch. Then again, it didn't bring Clint any peace as he knew that kind of pain tolerance only came from experience.

It hadn't taken as long as Clint thought it would, finding it had only been a very swollen and stressed dislocation - something he could handle. Without even asking him to, Barnes had sat on one of the bar stools and taken his soaked hoodie and t-shirt off, giving Clint the access he needed all while sitting deathly still.

After binding the arm to his chest with bandages (while trying to ignore the gruesome scars where metal met skin), Clint grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to Barnes. The man broke the trance he'd been in since he sat down and took it.

"I heal pretty quick anyway, But thanks." Clint simply nodded in return and opened the fridge.

"Thought so." Clint sighed as he stared at the meager contents of his fridge. "Don't think we're gonna get pizza delivered in this weather- wait. You like Chinese? Of course you like Chinese. I can do a stir-fry."

Barnes let out a quiet chuckle as he adjusted the ice on his shoulder, racking his brain to determine if he knew what a stir-fry actually was.

* * *

The thunderstorm had reduced to a slight drizzle by the time Clint dumped the dishes in the sink. He had managed to muster enough ingredients to made a half-decent meal, and had clearly underestimated how much the other guy could actually eat.

Clint made his way back to the sofa, turning the radio off as he passed. Barnes didn't react to the sudden silence, sitting forward in the leather chair flexing his metal hand out in front of him. Clint had given him a change of clothes before he started cooking, but he didn't look any more comfortable in the tight grey t-shirt and cargos.

"Something wrong with that arm too?" Clint broke the silence, nodding at the (now unmoving) metal arm.

"No." Clint watched as his eyes flickered between him and the metal. "You know the first thing I did when I woke up with...this?" Barnes asked, his gaze now solely focused on Clint.

"Do enlighten me." Clint teased as he met the man's stare.

"I put it around someone's throat. I don't even know if he lived."

"I'd hardly blame that on yourself, Barnes." Clint felt his heart beat a little harder, thinking of his own self-hatred after the battle of New York.

Barnes shifted, relaxing backwards into the chair and pulling the ice pack back up onto his shoulder as it fell.

"You said you knew who I was. How..." He started, finding the words to say. "How _much _do you know?"

Clint took a breath before recalling what he read in the file. "I know that in the 1940's you were known as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Fought during World War II with the 107th unit until captured by Hydra. The 107th were rescued by Captain Steve Rogers, where they formed the Howling Commandos." He tried to ignore Barnes's expression as he mentioned Steve. "The Howling Commandos fought with the Captain, taking out Hydra bases across Europe. 1945, the Commandos hijacked a Hydra train to apprehend their lead scientist. Sergeant Barnes falls into a ravine and is presumed dead. Soviet soldiers found him dying at the bottom. For seventy years, the Winter Soldier is put through training and ….. brainwashing by Hydra, taking out anyone who threatened the hiding organization."

Both men sat in silence, absorbing Clint's words. He had watched Barnes's face as he talked. His expression had ranged from mournful to confused, and in the end, angry, but now he just gazed into empty space, looking somewhere seventy years in the past Clint presumed. He let the man have a moment in peace before he spoke again.

"How much of that did _you _know?"

"I _knew _pretty much all of it. It's remembering it that's the problem." Barnes sighed. "I've just seen flashes, not even knowing if they were real, since I first saw Ste-" He cut off abruptly.

"Steve." Barnes seemed to physically flinch at the Captain's name. "Makes sense how he would trigger those kind of memories."

"You….you _know_ him, don't you?"

"Yeah," Clint confessed. "Well, technically I'm on his team, but we haven't really talked much since…" It was Clint's turn to freeze up as he struggled to keep his mind away from the battle.

"Something happened, didn't it? Here in New York?" Barnes query brought him back to reality.

"You don't know? Of course you didn't fucking know." Clint ran his hand down his face. "_Aliens_ happened, man. A god tried to rule the world but we stopped it."

He couldn't help but snort as he looked at Barnes. "That's a story for another time. It's not exactly an easy concept to get your head around."

"That's not actually what I meant…" Barnes started. "Something happened to _you._"

Clint felt his whole body go rigid. _Damn. He wasn't Hydra's best asset for nothing. _But Clint knew that if he wanted to help him, he needed his trust.

"You know _why_ I want to help you, Barnes?" Clint began, thinking about his next words. "Because I know what it's like to have everything you ever fought for turned against you. To be turned into a weapon. Trying to kill the only people you trusted - people you loved." He continued his deep breathing to keep his mind on track. "That _god?_ He got inside my fucking head and I nearly helped destroy the world. And now he's back on his own planet - _god knows where_ \- and I can't touch him. Make him pay. But you? You have a chance. So I'm going to help you, and don't tell me you don't want to make them pay because _I know _what it's like."

Clint stood up hastily and found himself at the window, fully realizing he told someone how he felt for the first time. The silence lasted minutes, broken only by Clint's heavy breathing.

"You're not wrong," Barnes admitted. "About me that is. I came to you because I thought you could help me find _them_. All I have are broken memories, but you were a SHIELD agent."

Clint turned to face the man, a new strength burning in his body. Barnes met his gaze with complete understanding.

"When do we start?"

"We just did."

* * *

For once, Clint had an uninterrupted sleep. Which surprised him considering he had just reopened an old wound for the assassin sleeping on his couch in the next room. After their conversation last night, both decided to turn in. Clint had given the man a pillow and blanket for the couch, while he retreated to his own bed. The archer had no idea where to start in tracking down Barnes's enemies - considering Alexander Pierce was dead and so was most of Hydra. So he fell asleep knowing he could figure it out in the morning.

Clint woke to the familiar buzzing of his phone. With a yawn, he searched the nightstand for the device as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains. When he finally got to unlocking it, the unfamiliar number worried Clint for a second before answering.

"Who is this?"

"_I woke you up, didn't I Birdbrain?" _The sound of Natasha's voice forced Clint to sit up.

"Maybe. You seem to be lying low very nicely." He quipped back, stifling another yawn.

"_Don't worry your pretty little head, I'm using a burner." _

"Of course you are. So what's happening?"

"_Just thought I'd let you know that Rogers got out of hospital yesterday, I gave him the file too. And that I'm leaving the country today."_

"Alright," Her sudden departure didn't worry Clint, he knew how she needed to rebuild her covers since blowing all her old ones. "You heard from Fury? Is Cap doing okay?"

"_Yeah saw them both yesterday. Steve's doing better than I thought he would. Looks like he's gonna start tracking down Barnes, god knows where he ended up after the Triskellion." _

Her words left Clint frozen. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. _He hadn't even considered telling Natasha, or the Captain for that matter, that the guy that tried to kill them last week was sleeping on his couch.

"_Clint? What's wrong?" _He could hear the worry in her tone. "_Please don't tell me you pissed off the tracksuit mafia again…" _

"Uh, something like that. Look, hate to cut it short but we shouldn't risk it - even with a burner."

"_Yeah you're right. Promise you'll try call if you need anything?"_

"Yeah," Clint sighed. "I'll try. Stay outta trouble."

"_You too." _

Clint ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand.

"This time she's actually gonna kill me." He declared to the ceiling.

* * *

By the time Clint dragged himself out of bed and into the living room, Barnes was sitting at the kitchen counter. He was sure to make his footsteps audible as he walked up to the man, not wanting to deal any injuries he may have sustained if he gave him a fright.

"Sleep well?" Clint asked on his way to the fridge. A small attempt at a smile was all he got in response.

Clint began putting together a bowl of cereal when he noticed what Barnes was looking at. The front page of the local paper was lying on the bench where Clint had left it from earlier in the week. Printed in bold letters across the front was the headline "_The Fall of SHIELD.", _right above a photo of the burning ruins of the Triskellion.

It wasn't until Clint swallowed the last spoonful of muesli that Barnes finally spoke.

"Do you think there's anything left there?" The comment made Clint think. "Information, I mean?"

"Well most of SHIELD's data is on the internet. But this was Pierce's main base...so technically Hydra's too. Chances are he had some hard copies of the _really_ dirty stuff."

"You think _I _come under that really dirty stuff? You know, like the facilities where I was kept all those years?" Clint saw the determination take over Barnes's eyes, any info was good enough for him.

"I think you're on the right track there, kid." Admitted Clint, dumping the empty bowl in the sink and leaning back against the bench top. "You suggesting we take a road trip?"

"Only if you think it's worth it. The site would probably be heavily guarded, and actually _finding _where the info is kept is a whole other problem." Barnes concern only made Clint smirk.

"You _are _talking to an ex-SHIELD agent, you know? Breaking and entering was basically my job description."

"Sounds like a start." Was all Barnes replied as Clint took the paper away and replaced it with a bowl, milk, and cereal.

"I'll make up for the crap food with this _really _nice dinner on the road to D.C., you ever had cronuts before?"

It was late morning when Clint decided to start prepping for D.C. - if they were going to get on the Triskelion site, they needed some help to get past the guards. He ignored Barnes's confused look as he walked into the kitchen with a crowbar. Setting the tool on the bench, Clint grabbed the edges of a large painting on the wall and pulled it down. Where the painting had been hanging was panel, about two feet square, set into the wall.

Clint picked up the crowbar again and jammed the metal between the cracks, pushing his weight to one side as he pried the panel out of the wall. Placing the panel next to the painting on the floor, he pulled out the black duffel bag from the gaping hole.

Barnes, who had been watching the his actions with curiosity, took his seat on the bar stool as Clint dumped the bag on the bench.

Clint tore open the zipper to reveal an AK-47 lying on top of numerous other objects.

"For when things get exciting." Clint smirked as he put the gun aside. He started to dig through the array of ammunition, arrows, satellite phones, and the odd grenade for the devices that would help them. A moment later Clint's hands resurfaced with a small black case. Making sure Barnes could watch, he flicked the latch and let the case spring open. Set inside protective foam were three pairs of compact metal discs, each about the size of a thumbnail. Being an assassin for seventy years, Barnes recognized the devices.

"Distorts camera feeds so no one can see your face." Barnes recalled with understanding.

"Exactly. That deals with any security cameras, which leaves only the guards."

"Nothing a few hours of surveillance can't deal with. Just wait to find their weakest point and-"

"The whole site is our playground." Clint interrupted, closing the case and setting it down.

The next half-hour was spent going through the rest of the bag and working out a plan. By the time Clint pulled the zipper closed, both men had agreed to a simple outline. They'd leave for D.C. in the afternoon, hoping to be in a motel by nightfall. Before dawn they would have completed a round of surveillance and found an ideal time to break in. What came next depended on their surveillance findings, but it would be simple - get in, take they needed, get out. It was only Barnes's constant unease that worried Clint.

"It'll be fine, kid. I've done plenty of these kinds of missions before." Clint attempted to reassure the man while he packed his bow and quiver for D.C.

"Huh? Oh I know that," Barnes turned away from where he had been staring out at the city.

"Then what's up?" Clint queried as he fiddled with an arrowhead.

"This morning…. you were talking to someone. I heard you mention-"

"Steve?" Clint sighed, of course he had heard. "You know Natasha Romanoff? Well she called me."

"The woman…. is she OK?" Barnes's face filled with a different kind of concern.

"OK? Yeah she's fine. She's still recovering from when you, ya know, _shot _her. But she's had worse." Clint tried to read the man as he thought out his next words. "Steve just got out of hospital yesterday."

"Oh." Clint could tell he tried to hide his relief by turning back to the window.

"He's looking for you." He watched Barnes's reflection on the window as his expression morphed into one of frustration.

"Did you tell her?" Was all he croaked out.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because while I haven't known you for long, I know that if you wanted to see Steve, that's where you'd be."

Both men sat in silent understanding before Clint stood and dropped the arrow he was playing with into his quiver.

"C'mon, I might have some gear you can wear for D.C."

Barnes followed the man into the next room, not knowing entirely _why_ he trusted him - just knowing it was the right thing to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note: _**_OK, this took a _lot_ longer than expected. This chapter is a bit of a filler to keep you guys interested. I was going to put a whole lot of action in it too, but writers block hit for the scenes beforehand :( That also means this one is a bit shorter than planned - sorry. _

_Anyway, hope you enjoy and please feel free to leave a review, I love to know what you think! :)_

Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

It was one o'clock before Clint locked the door to his apartment and led Barnes downstairs. As they reached the ground floor, instead of turning left towards the street entrance, Clint headed right, where a door led to a cramped parking lot. Barnes hesitated for only a moment, trying to determine what vehicle among the lot belonged to Clint. He picked up his pace again when his eyes drifted to the sleek, black muscle car Clint had just unlocked.

"A gift from SHIELD after I got shot on a bad mission a few years back." Clint explained as he threw his bag into the trunk. "Dodge Challenger SRT-8. Zero to sixty in 4.8 seconds. Should get us to D.C. by nightfall." He smirked at Barnes while the man placed his own backpack next to Clint's.

"_Welcome back Agent Barton." _The female voice that greeted them as they closed their doors made Barnes jump out of his seat.

"Sorry, should've mentioned the modifications." Clint apologized before addressing the car's interface. "Gimme playlist four, track two."

Clint pulled out onto the vacant street as the first chords of The Eagles's _Hotel California_ played out of the car's speakers, beginning their five-hour drive to D.C.

* * *

They were two hours in, driving along the interstate when Clint noticed Barnes's breathing deepen as his head rested against the window. He hadn't paid much attention to the man since they hit the outskirts of New York, but now Clint took in his appearance.

A few meals and shelter had made an impact on Barnes's body, his face having more colour than when he first met him. Even the dark circles under his eyes had lightened slightly, but Clint still knew he hardly slept the night before. With that in mind, he turned the stereo down a notch focused on the road ahead.

Clint continued driving for another hour, not bothering to admire the views as he sped past. He'd seen plenty places better than the east coast of America anyway. He was humming along to the last chorus of _Stairway to Heaven _when he sensed Barnes's stirring next to him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, kid." Clint's smile was short-lived as he watched him clench his metal fist. He hadn't noticed how unsteady the man's breathing had become. Clint's hand barely reached the stereo controls before a weak mumble escaped Barnes's lips.

"_Stop….Please don't…."_

His voice left a pain in Clint's heart, recognizing all too well what a nightmare looked like. Deciding against a tap on the shoulder, he began to talk to him, trying to bring him back to reality.

"Hey man, Barnes?"He started, now only half paying attention to the road. "It's just a dream now c'mon, wanna wake up for me?"

A brief moment passed before Clint spoke again.

"Bucky? C'mon man."

"...Steve?" His hand still clenched, but his voice somewhat less strained.

"Not quite. It's me, Clint. You're in the car."

Clint finally let out the breath he'd been holding as Barnes gasped into consciousness. He watched the man's eyes dart around, assessing the situation. After realizing there was no immediate threat, Barnes finally relaxed, his fist unclenching.

Clint shifted in his seat as he felt Barnes's gaze focus on him.

"You called me Bucky." Barnes finally broke the silence between them, his eyes still boring a hole in Clint's skull.

"I did." Clint turned to face the man. "That's what they called you back then, wasn't it?"

Clint struggled to read Barnes's expression, his face twisted as he turned away, lost in thought.

"That's what _he _called me."

Silence again filled the car, and it wasn't until Clint had turned the stereo back on when Barnes broke it.

"It wasn't a dream." Barnes stated as he rested his head back onto the headrest.

All Clint could do was nod in response. Barnes didn't have to say anything else for him to understand, he knew exactly what he meant.

_When is a dream not a dream? _Clint let his mind wander as he drove.

_When it's a memory._

* * *

Clint pulled the car off the road and cut the engine. They had taken a back road just outside of Philadelphia, to Barnes's confusion and Clint's joy. Their car sat in a small car park adjoining a bright yellow 60's style diner with a few petrol pumps outside.

Clint was the first to step out into the cool October air, followed by a reluctant Barnes.

"Relax," Clint tried to calm the man as he approached the building's entrance. "There's hardly anyone here, and I know the owner."

They were met with the smell tobacco and burnt meat as the door swung closed behind them.

"Oh c'mon it's not _that_ bad." Clint smirked at Barnes's frowning face.

"_You _don't have genetically enhanced senses." His attempt to hide his disgust only made Clint laugh aloud.

Clint's response was cut short by a high-pitched exclamation from the kitchen.

"Peter! My boy it's been so long!" Barnes could only watch as a short elderly woman burst out of a side door and reached for Clint's face.

"Yeah yeah I know, it's kinda hard when your place is in the middle of nowhere, Rosa." Clint returned the woman's embrace.

"But somehow _you_ found me. Oh! Sit, sit boys. I hope your taste hasn't changed Pete."

"Absolutely not. My usual times two will do us just fine."

A confounded Barnes's followed Clint's lead as he sat at the diner's bar. Clint didn't speak until the woman disappeared into the kitchen.

"First came here years back. Simple mission went bad when my quinjet got shot down a few miles west. Walked through these doors with a few broken ribs, concussion, and an angry Texan arms dealer on my tail. Rosa helped me out."

"Sounds like a nice lady." Barnes concluded, not knowing what to think.

"Don't let that fool you," Clint smirked as he chewed on a plastic straw from the counter. "She's pretty handy with a shotgun."

* * *

Half an hour had passed before they were sitting back in Clint's dodge challenger, the engine roaring to life.

"Sorry that took so long, I forgot how much that woman could talk." Clint apologized as he pulled back out onto the road. "But hey, we got cronuts!"

Barnes's couldn't help but smile as Clint threw a paper bag filled with the pastries onto his lap.

"How much longer 'till D.C.?" Barnes's reluctantly asked, still not entirely used to not getting reprimanded for asking questions.

"Eh, a couple hours at most." Clint replied before flicking a button on the dashboard. "Start playlist two from track 3. Hope you like Fall Out Boy, kid."

Barnes rested his head against the window as an another unfamiliar song started, careful not to fall asleep again.

* * *

The sun had almost hit the horizon by the time they hit the outskirts of the city, and as they pulled up to their motel, only a sliver of light remained in the sky.

Barnes was checking out the area surrounding the nondescript building as he waited for Clint to book a room. He gazed to the west, where they would be later tonight, running surveillance on the Triskellion. The sound of a door closing and light footsteps brought Barnes back to the motel.

"Room three, paid for two nights." Clint announced himself while grabbing their bags from his car, tossing one to Barnes.

Clint unlocked the door to their room with a swift _*click*._ He let Barnes walk past him before stepping inside, analyzing every inch of the room from it's two double beds, to the complementary coffee sachets on the kitchen counter. Barnes mirrored his inspection, walking in and out of the small bathroom with narrowed eyes.

"It'll have to do. Thirty minutes to clean up, then we head out. Sound OK to you?" Clint dumped his bag on the bed nearest the door and shrugged out of his jacket, waiting for Barnes's reply.

"Yeah sure." Barnes confirmed as he stood in the bathroom's doorway. "Do you want the bathroom? Or can I-"

"Nah, go ahead. I'm just gonna take a nap here." Clint fell backwards onto the bed as he spoke, already closing his eyes.

Barnes waited a moment, watching the archer as he lay unmoving on the patterned bedspread. How Clint felt so comfortable in a place he'd hardly been in was beyond him. With a sigh he turned away, stepping into the bathroom and pushing the door closed behind him.

Barnes couldn't remember the last time he looked in a mirror, though he assumed it must have been a while as he didn't recognize the face that stared back at him. He hadn't even realized how long his hair had become. It now skimmed his shoulders, framing his face in a tangled brown mess. The photos he'd seen of Bucky Barnes had all shown a cropped forties style matched with a kind face. The man that stood before him had none of that light and charisma he'd seen. Instead, dark stubble shadowed his jaw, which only made his eyes look darker and more hollow. His face was one of cruelty and death, not kindness. The only feature he recognized was the colour of his eyes - a washed-out shade somewhere between grey and blue.

Minutes passed before Barnes forced his focus away from his reflection. Careful not to pull his healing shoulder, he turned on the water and wiped his face with his non-metal hand.

Clint woke to the creaking of the bathroom door. Lifting his head, he saw Barnes walk towards the other bed and sit on it's edge.

Walking past him and into the bathroom, Clint tried to ignore the haunted look on the man's face - and failing as he looked back at him before shutting the door.

Clint ignored the mirror as he woke himself up with cold water. He only ever looked at his reflection these days to make sure his eyes weren't blue after a troubling nightmare. Despite his attempts, his gaze still briefly caught the mirror, focusing on the worn-out look on his face. Clint almost let out a laugh, but resorted to a quiet snort instead, as he thought of his messed up situation.

_How can I help someone else with their demons when I can't even face my own?_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's_**_** note: **Hello readers! I just wanna say thank you to everyone who had favorited/followed/reviewed this story so far, I had no idea that people would actually like this, so thank you! :) _

_So here is a bit more action for you all - aka, my babies being absolute badasses. I know this took a bit longer, and the next few chapters probably will too because school starts up next week (second to last year...whoop whoop), but I will do my best to keep the story updated :)_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please feel free to leave a review :)_

Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Clint pulled up the building plans on his phone while Barnes adjusted the binoculars. For the last two hours, they had been uncomfortably perched on the river bank looking out across the Potomac, where the remaining walls of the Triskelion stood towering into the night.

"Honestly, actually _getting _to the island won't be easy. " Clint concluded after going over the building's layout. "The main bridge is still closed off and covered in debris, and I don't fancy swimming."

"Looks like the government is focusing security on the bridge, too." Barnes responded grimly without moving the binoculars from his eyes, looking over the dozen or so armed guards wandering around the south end of the building.

"Gimme a look." Barnes handed the binoculars to Clint's waiting hands, confident he would live up to his reputation as Hawkeye with the tool.

The archer took a moment to scope out the guards Barnes had mentioned, focusing his gaze on a particular man who appeared to be talking into a radio on his shoulder. Clint maxed out the zoom on the lenses as he tracked the man's movements.

"I think something's happening over there." He halfheartedly informed Barnes as he watched the man finish talking on the radio, and walk over to another pair of guards. Luckily for Clint, the men gave him a full view of their faces as they talked.

"_Boat….guys…...north." _Clint muttered the words as he read the men's lips.

"_Crew….take down what's left...morning..explosives." _It wasn't until the words left Clint's own lips that he processed what they had said.

"Uh, Barnes?" Clint kept his focus on the men as he spoke, not realizing that Barnes already knew the problem.

"They're taking the damn building down, aren't they?"

"Looks like they'll be doing it in the morning too. What time is it?" Clint sighed as he lowered the binoculars, shifting his stiffening shoulders under the strap of his quiver.

"Eight." Barnes answered with a glance at his borrowed watch. "Any idea about the boat up north?"

"Could be security guys coming over for a night shift up the north end." Clint looked to his partner with curiosity. "You think that's our chance?"

"If we're right, we won't get another one before they demolish what's left." Barnes explained before looking past Clint to the north. "You see the dock up there? About a mile up the shore."

Clint followed the man's gaze to a series of buildings on the waterfront, next to a wharf with two boats tied up on the water. He mentally thanked himself for bringing their gear with them, fully realizing they didn't have time to go back to the motel.

"Worth a shot." Clint sighed as he stood, taking a moment to check his pair of camera-distorter's were still clipped onto the collar of his jacket. "Now or never, right?"

Barnes got to his feet as well, standing next to the archer. "Something like that..."

Clint led them both along the river bank, closing the distance between them and the dock as fast as they could without attracting attention.

* * *

"_Why are we still here?"_

"_Oh shut up Willis, we're just waiting for the new guy."_

"_We don't even need him there. There's no one stupid enough to attack this place."_

Unbeknownst to the four CIA-hired guards, two of the world's best assassins were listening to their every word. Clint and Barnes were crouched behind a dumpster, only meters away, waiting for their chance to hitch a ride.

Clint shifted silently, watching a small figure running towards the group of men. They could hear the most burly man of the group - Willis - sigh, and watched as he bounded onto the deck of the small ferry. The other three men were distracted by the newcomer's round of excuses.

Barnes flicked his hand out in front of him, signaling to Clint that it was time to move. Both men stuck to the shadows as they crept out of their hiding place and onto the boat. Once they were hidden in a small alcove behind a stash of safety gear, their pre-planned hideaway, Clint focused on the four pairs of footsteps as the other men came on board.

"_Ready ladies?" _

"_Just get on with it, Willis, the other group are waiting for this boat." _

All Clint could manage in the cramped darkness was a small nod of assurance to his partner as the boat lurched forward with the roar of the engine.

* * *

Clint was the first to jump off the boat, steadying himself in a crouch on the dock. He stepped aside as Barnes followed suit before taking off towards the building's ruins.

They reached a convenient gap in the rubble where only part of the wall had crumbled away, revealing the dark corridor inside. Clint took one last look outside before squeezing through the opening after Barnes.

"There's a few rooms downstairs that I want to check out, they should still be relatively intact." Clint's voice echoed as led the way through the vacant hall, his flashlight guiding them. He followed his mental image of the floor plan through the twisting corridors, ignoring the flood of memories that came as he passed familiar doors. While the halls himself were intact, the twisted metal doorways occasionally opened up to the cold outside air instead of the conference rooms they once were. Clint hoped his partner hadn't noticed his hesitation at one of those doors - room thirteen. He hurried forward, away from the memory of Coulson when he first brought the rebellious archer into SHIELD, and into the darkness.

They had been hunting the halls for an hour when Clint found the turnoff leading to the suspicious rooms he noted previously. A steel door was labeled with "Maintenance" at the end of the hall, but Clint knew better.

"Maintenance?" Barnes queried before following Clint down the hall.

"Rule one of being the leader of a secret spy organisation _inside _another secret spy organisation: hide your secrets where no one thinks to look." Clint explained as he approached the door.

"_Not_ maintenance then. How did you know?"

"Saw the building's floor plan, including its security levels and electricity. A maintenance room would have a pretty low security clearance, but here we have a three-stage lock system with an ever changing ten-digit code to get in." Clint paused to make sure Barnes understood. "Then there's the power. There's only enough electricity going through here to do the lights and security - the majority of it goes towards the door's lock. Unlike most maintenance rooms in the building where their electricity usage goes off the charts dealing with everything that moves in this place."

Barnes tried to hide his amazement with the man, before remembering the high-tech lock system.

"You have a plan?" He asked Clint as he flexed the metal of his arm. "Or shall I…?"

Clint stood back, realizing the man's intention with a smirk. "Go ahead."

The moment Barnes's metal fist hit the door, the whole corridor shook under the impact. A few more punches and the steel face gave way to the fist, a small fissure appearing in the crater Barnes had left. With new found adrenaline, he thrust his fingers through the gap and pulled.

Clint couldn't avoid the flinch that shook him as the horrific screeching filled the air. He stepped back as Barnes tossed a strip of metal about the size of his leg onto the floor, before turning back to the door and tearing another.

In under a minute, Barnes had torn a gap in the door large enough for both of them to crawl through. As Clint followed the man into the room beyond, he saw his suspicions proved true. Instead of maintenance equipment, the room held rows of filing cabinets, filling the twenty or so square feet of floor space.

"Give me a second." Snapping back into his SHIELD training, Clint opened the nearest drawer. After taking a quick glance at the titles, he turned to the next one, doing the same. Four cabinets in, Clint stopped and stood back to face Barnes.

"Looks like alphabetically, then by date. Which means, assuming the full alphabet is used equally…" Clint produced his findings before counting the cabinets. "Bucky Barnes would be there, and Winter Soldier down there."

Barnes's eyes followed the man's finger as he pointed towards two separate filing cabinets among the rows. Without thinking twice, he hurried down the aisles to the first cabinet Clint pointed out, barely noticing the other man pass him on his way to the second one.

_Bab..bac...bad… _His hands ran through the files as fast as he could read their names, him mind running wild with the hope of new information. By the time he reached _Bar _he was on the second drawer, reading the names more carefully as he searched. Suddenly his breathing hitched. _No! _Was all the thought his hands flicked through the files again.

Nothing.

Barnes was about to slam the cabinet shut when his sight caught another name. _ ._ Pulling the file out, he glanced at his partner across the room who was still searching furiously.

"Barnes!" He barely read the file's first page before his head snapped back up at the sound of his name.

Clint skimmed through the file he had in his hands as Barnes ran over. The file was almost identical to the one Natasha had shown him, but was noticeably thicker and in English instead of Russian. Clint felt Barnes's presence over his shoulder as he closed the file, allowing him to read _The Winter Soldier_ printed in an old typewriter font on the cover.

"This is it." Clint was about to hand him the file before he saw what the man held in his hand. Clint knew the file Barnes held was not his own SHIELD file - it was much thicker, but his name was still printed on the front.

Clint didn't ask him about it, only opened his bag for the files to go inside. They would do the reading later, Clint told himself. Seeing the thickness of his file given him a thought, and sprung into action again, leaving a confused Barnes with the backpack.

"Just a moment. There might be some-" Both men froze. The wailing of an alarm chilled their blood as they stared at each other.

"We have to go. Now." Was all Barnes dared to speak, but his words only moved Clint towards another filing cabinet, seemingly ignoring the noise. "Clint!"

"One minute." Barnes's turned to leave as Clint pulled a file out, but stopped when he ran towards another cabinet.

"CLINT!" Barnes's ears picked up the sound of footsteps from above as Clint pulled out another file. His yelling seemed to have little effect as the archer continued to take three more files before throwing them in the bag and pulling out his bow.

* * *

Clint felt the familiar adrenaline coursing through his veins as they ran through the corridors. Even if he didn't have his hearing aids in, he would have heard the thunderous sound of the guards running down the way they came. They didn't hesitate as they turned down the opposite hall, hoping it would lead to an exit.

The archer was glad Barnes stayed behind him, fearing he wouldn't have kept up as they ran into a more damaged part of the Triskellion. Luckily, Clint recognized their new surroundings, turning towards what he remembered as a training gym which had taken the brunt of the helicarrier damage.

Barnes didn't hesitate when a door blocked their path, speeding past Clint with his left shoulder forward as he crashed through. The chilling night air met them as they stumbled outside, trying to regain their footing on the rubble of what used to be a training gym.

They had only just gained their bearings when the footsteps of the guards once again echoed through the corridor behind them.

"Bridge! Now!" Was all Clint managed to yell as he took off again, this time towards the South end of the island where the damaged Roosevelt Bridge stood.

As they approached the bridge, now towering over them, Clint pulled an arrow from his quiver and jumped up onto the highest point of the rubble. Barnes reached the archer just in time for him to release a grappling arrow into the structure's support beams.

One quick look back told Clint they were well past pushing their luck, as the five guards exited the training room door with their torches cutting into the darkness. The archer grabbed a stunned Barnes by him jacket and pressed a button on his bow.

The pair were thrust forward into the night, the grappling line straining under their weight. Barnes had no choice but to return Clint's tight grip as they awkwardly flew towards the bridge. A second later and they were clinging to the concrete support, recovering from their ungraceful slam into it's side.]

Clint risked a look down below. The guards were still searching aimlessly across the rubble as they hid safely underneath the bridge. The pair sat crouched in the shadows, catching their breath. Barnes was the first one to realise that they still had another step to their escape.

"Now what?" Barnes queried, not entirely sure Clint had an answer.

"I...well I...yeah I got nothing." Clint didn't bother hiding the laugh that escaped his lips. "What did that guy say? _There's no one stupid enough to attack this place?_"

Barnes let out his own chuckle, fully realizing that he just broke into a government facility with a guy he only met the day before. "Bet he's feeling like an idiot now…"

"He's not the one stuck under a bridge, kid." The archer replied, Barnes's retort only making him laugh harder.

"Is that bag waterproof?" Minutes passed as they waited for the guards to turn away, both of them having realized what their only way out was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: **Yes I'm still alive. I. am. so. sorry. I have been extremely busy with school (second to last year!) and was only reminded of this story by a lovely review. Things are settling now and Age of Ultron happened so I decided to write another chapter :)

If you guys want more, PLEASE tell me! Reviews are what make authors keep writing! I don't have time while publishing this, but next chapter I will thank all you reviewers personally next chapter :)

So here we are, back with the birdbrain and terminator...

_Disclaimer: all characters and organizations featured in this work are properties of Marvel and no copyright infringement is intended._

* * *

Sirens still blared in the distance as the lock finally gave in to Clint's attempts to open the door with his frozen hands. In a few short strides he was at the bathroom, shrugging his waterlogged jacket to the floor and turning the shower on. The archer took the time the water needed to heat up to catch his breath.

As it turned out, the Potomac had been as cold as Clint thought it would be, and the run back to the motel was only possible with adrenaline rushing in his veins after the icy dip. His genetically enhanced partner on the other hand, had made it without so much as a few heavy breaths after the motel door closed.

Barnes was checking the contents of the backpack, only stopping briefly whenever Clint yelped from the scaldingly hot shower. The files they risked hypothermia for were still dry thanks to SHIELD-quality waterproofing, to which Barnes allowed himself to relax an inch.

The numbing cold started to stiffen his limbs and reminded him of the soaking tactical gear he still wore. Ignoring the dull throb at his right shoulder, Barnes pulled the borrowed jacket off and onto the ground.

If he was being honest with himself, Barnes had all but forgotten how to be grateful for the small things, like having clothes on his back or something to eat every few days. The past seventy years had stolen the desire for those necessities. It wasn't as if Hydra had ever cared for anything other than a mission.

The dark cotton that clung to his torso was what brought the thought of gratefulness to Barnes's mind. Along with the rest of the gear, it was on the small side, the material taut over his chest and the metal plates of his left arm.

_Why _the man had given him so much without hesitation still confused Barnes. While he couldn't exactly define what a good person was, he knew without doubt that he could not call himself one. _Murderers aren't good people_, he knew that much. Which left him wondering why the man that stood in the next room would believe he should be given any form of kindness, and not a bullet instead.

Barnes was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening.

"Just to be clear, we are _not _making this a regular occurrence. Only one of us can physically handle jumping into rivers in the middle of the fucking night - and I can't feel my damn toes." Clint declared as he exited the bathroom.

"I thought it was quite refreshing actually." The reaction Barnes got was almost worth diving back into the Potomac.

The joking atmosphere faded as both men gazed towards the backpack, both silently hoping its' contents were worth it all. The only thing stopping Clint from grabbing the first file he saw was the sudden, but slight, movement of the man next to him. Barnes had tensed, his eyes darting out the window.

"What i-"

"Shut up." Clint took Barnes's tone as an order and prepared to defend himself from whatever threat the man had seen.

A moment passed before Clint caught on, or well rather his hearing aids did.

The sirens had been background noise since they entered the motel, but now even Clint could tell they were getting louder.

Without a word between them, they rushed to clear the room. Minutes ticked by as the sirens blared through the streets. The few bags they had were thrown into the trunk of the car with haste. By the time Clint started the engine, flashing lights lit up the buildings in red and blue.

"There's a chance they're not here for us." Barnes suggested.

"That's a chance that I'm not taking tonight kid." The archer said as he pulled out of the motel's parking lot, accelerating away from the city.

* * *

Dawn had hit streets of Brooklyn hours before Clint woke, throwing his body clock even more out of place. Weak sunlight passed through the curtains and into the archer's face as he listened to the sounds of the streets below. Unlike most mornings, Clint didn't turn his face back into the pillow on the chance that it would take him back into blissful unconsciousness. Instead, he had a pot of coffee brewing and was delving through what remained in the refrigerator. He would have to buy something else other than beer and ramen noodles if Barnes was going to stay any longer.

The assassin in question was currently camped out on the floor in front of his TV, despite Clint's suggestion to get some sleep when they returned to his apartment.

"Are those worth it? Or did I freeze my butt off for stuff we already knew?" Clint's question barely caught Barnes ears.

When the archer realised he wasn't going to get an answer, he grabbed the coffee pot and started towards the couch.

Barnes's appearance didn't surprise him. The man was deathly still as he hunched over the piles of paper spread around him, his eyes being the only indicator of consciousness. Clint let out a sigh as he saw no difference between the scene before him and what he had left alone in the early hours of the morning.

_You would do the same thing if it was you. _Clint thought as he sat on the couch. Groggy memories of late nights watching the helicarrier footage over and over again entered his mind. Those nights would usually end with Natasha threatening to shoot his laptop or sharing a bottle of whiskey.

"Barnes… you with me here, kid?" Clint said, trying to pull the man back from whatever monstrosities were in the files.

A minute passed and Clint took a swig of his coffee straight from the pot.

The archer was about to ask again when Barnes lifted his head, his face expressionless towards Clint.

"Yes." His voice was dry as he tried to keep his eyes open. "They were worth it."

Taking his answer as permission, Clint slid off the couch and sat cross-legged across from Barnes.

Pages were spread out evenly between them, to which Clint took the time to analyse. Some were common printed reports, others handwritten notes on yellowed paper. Photos were among the pages, but Clint spared them when the first one had turned his stomach uncomfortably. Before he could begin reading any of the pages, a quiet mechanical whirring made him look back up. Barnes was holding a page towards Clint with his left hand.

With a raised eyebrow Clint took the page and started to read.

"Russia." Clint deduced from his quick once-over. "This doesn't look like one of the bases _we_ know about."

"About 500 kilometers North East of Omsk." Barnes said. "And that because the Soviets abandoned it decades ago when a U.S. missile hit it. Took out most of the buildings, but left some decent subterranean laboratories for Hydra to find."

"How do you know if there's anything left?" Clint asked. "According to this, the most recent activity this place has was when they shipped you off to the States for Pierce."

Barnes broke the man's gaze before answering.

"I remember something about that place...well I _think_ it was that place." Barnes sighed. "There were so many different labs. Different… _people_."

The soldier scratched at his unshaven chin, trying to shake the fresh wave of flashbacks. He didn't look up when Clint spoke.

"I still have a few contacts left," Clint started. "Could get us there under the radar. If you think it's worth it."

"Us? I'm not asking you to come."

"You don't need to, kid." Clint held back a sigh, he knew where this conversation was going.

"You don't understand, I'm not getting you any more involved that you already are. This is between me and Hydra."

"The hell it is." Clint held back his anger, instead reaching for the other files next to him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Barnes said.

Silence fell as Clint pushed the Winter Soldier files aside, dropping a stack of brown folders in their place.

Barnes counted with curiosity. Six files, each printed with the Hydra emblem.

The first name wasn't shocking seeing as Barnes found the file himself.

_Clinton Francis Barton._

It wasn't until the next two were uncovered, that Barnes realised Clint's rash actions in the Triskellion.

_Natalia Alianovna Romanoff._

_Anthony Edward Stark. _

Clint continued spreading the files to show the names.

_Robert Bruce Banner._

_Thor Odinson. _

_Steven Grant Rogers._

The last name struck a chord somewhere in Barnes's head, but he ignored it. When the six files sat evenly between them, Barnes looked to Clint for an explanation.

"A few years ago, four of these people were complete strangers." Clint began. "But through SHIELD, they became my teammates, my friends. Last week I found out SHIELD was compromised by Hydra, and thanks to project Insight, I didn't even know if they were still alive. After I check in with them, I realise something. This team was put together by SHIELD. But now we know SHIELD wasn't entirely _SHIELD._ I took these files so I can find out how deep Hydra got. I mean, gathering a team of circus freaks sounds like something Hydra would do."

"You think the Avengers Initiative was Hydra's idea?" Barnes questioned.

"Not exactly, but who knows. As much as I hate to think it, I need to know my teammates are actually on my team."

Clint shifted his weight before continuing.

"Being a SHIELD agent was the one thing I was proud of in my life, and Hydra took that from me. This is between Hydra and everyone whose lives they fucked up, including you, kid."

Silence took over again as both men digested Clint's confession. The archer leaned back to rest his head on the couch, turning his head to the window. The dazzling sunlight reminded him of the time, but Barnes spoke before he could mention it.

"I think Omsk is worth it."

"Hmm?." The subject change had caught Clint's attention.

"Can you really get us there?" Barnes said.

"Give me a day or two. Hope you like planes, kid." Clint responded with a sly grin before standing up.

The archer was about to step away when Barnes spoke again.

"Stop calling me kid."

Clint stopped moving and snorted with laughter before responding.

"Took you longer than I expected."

"You do realise I'm fifty-three years older than you?"

"Well what should I call you then?" Clint now looked down at the soldier, curious about his answer.

A moment passed while Barnes thought. _James Buchanan Barnes _rang through his head. _Bucky _was what _he _called him, but he knew the name didn't quite fit him now.

He looked back up as the archer held out a hand to help him up.

"James." Said James as he took Clint's hand in a metal grip.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note: Hello readers. Looks like you guys were happy I updated :D. _

_First of all, I want to thank all the readers, especially those who faved, followed, and/or reviewed. Thought I would mention all you here; (so sorry if I missed anyone, I tried my best!)_

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_THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! _

_With that note, here is chapter 7 :)_

_(Warning for a teeny tiny bit of violence at the end.)_

* * *

_**7 years ago. Location: Classified.**_

_"Hirata! Get out of here!" Clint yelled over the sound of gunfire. His heart thudded as bullets sprayed a nearby truck, where the junior agent was covering to reload her rifle._

_"That's not a good idea sir." He struggled to hear her voice despite her yelling. _

_"The fuel tank of that truck is going to blow. If you don't move now-"_

_He was cut off by an explosion. Before panic could set in, the agent ran into the wall next to him._

_"Should keep them busy, sir." She said with a nervous grin._

_Clint risked a glance behind them. Sure enough, fire and smoke had sent the rest of the goons running. _

_"Not bad rookie. Follow me back to the others."_

_"Barton, Hirata. To the north corner. Me and McCartney will take the east." The agent ordered in their single precious moment without gunfire._

_"You're joking, right?" Clint walked right up to the senior agent's face. "They'll smoke the groups out in minutes. Use it to their advantage. We stick together, Wills." _

_"Not if you do your job they won't." Wills spat back at Clint._

_Clint didn't have time to fight back as the sound of gunfire echoed the room. _

_"God damn it. Hirata, follow me!" He shouted at the young woman._

_They had made it to the north corner almost undetected, which concerned Clint._

_"Sir?" Hirata looked up to the archer in question._

_"There's no way we got through that easily." Clint pulled his rifle up, preparing for whatever the cult of mad-scientists had planned._

_"It's almost as if you _like _being shot at, sir." _

_Clint grinned back. Hirata was a good agent, he thought, skilled despite being level 2. She was only put on his team to replace another member, but she'd proven herself quickly. He knew she was a good kid too, with good morals. That was rare these days._

_"We'll hold this corner for bit, contact the others." Clint began, lowering his gun. "Hopefully they aren't Swiss cheese by now."_

_Agent Hirata had just turned away from him when it hit._

_The ground beneath Clint tore open as he was thrown backwards. His lungs emptied with the force of impact against the wall as dust filled the air. Concrete from the ceiling began to crumble, then collapsed. _

_Clint tried to cover, but the weight hit him full force, turning the room black._

_He didn't know how long he was out for. An attempt to move told him he was trapped, pinned under metal and concrete. He could feel the fiery pain up and down his body, and blood dripping down his face._

_The sound of footsteps sent sparks of hope and panic through Clint. From his position, he saw a pair of black boots approaching. _SHIELD Issue_. He thought._

_A cry for help was on his lips when the figure spoke into a radio._

_"Target is hit, not out. Instructions, sir?" _

Target? There wasn't a target…

_Clint was pulled from his thoughts when a face appeared in his line of sight. _

_"W...will..is." Clint's veins turned cold as he spoke. The agent didn't respond, only looked down at the archer. _

_He could barely hear the crackle of a radio before agent Willis stood. Clint's heart began to beat faster as he watched the footsteps disappear._

_The world turned black. _

_When he woke, he was in a hospital. Coulson looked exhausted as he sat at his bedside. They both sat through the doctor's diagnosis and recovery plan without a word. _

_He didn't go to Agent Hirata's funeral._

* * *

_**Present day. Location: Somewhere just North of the Canadian border.**_

James spoke for the first time in hours. "Anything interesting in there?"

Clint finally turned away from the darkening sky, his gaze dropping back down to the open file on his lap. The only reply he could muster was a loud sigh.

_Agent Mayu Hirata. _That name still tugged at his heart, even seven years later. This time, however, it was _anger _more than anything that rose inside him when he thought of that nervous junior agent. To find out she was just collateral damage in Hydra's attempt to have him killed? That made him want to put an arrow through the eyes of every Hydra agent he could find. Maybe even shoot Alexander Pierce's dead body for good measure.

In an effort to drive the violent thoughts from his mind, Clint tucked the file back into the backpack at his feet.

"Depends on what you'd call interesting." Clint rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I guess finding out that an old mission that went _very fucking_ _south _was actually Hydra trying to take you out...that's pretty interesting."

He didn't need to explain any further. James nodded with understanding before turning his gaze back to the road.

Clint relaxed into the passenger seat of the grungy van as James turned off the main highway. It had taken five hours for the archer to give up the wheel, but he'd been glad he did when his eyes shut within minutes of swapping seats.

After their conversation in the apartment, Clint was quick to make the phone call. Mere hours had passed and they had paid for an inconspicuous, soccer-mom van from a dealership with cash. Crossing the border was uneventful, thanks to their combined SHIELD and Hydra training, and James took the wheel before hitting the outskirts of Montreal.

The open roads of southern Canada now sped past in a blur. Clint's contact was only miles away, where they had been promised a safe plane ride to Omsk

Clint lifted his hand to his face with a sigh, fully realising the chances of his contact double-crossing him. After all, he _had_ been introduced to him through SHIELD.

_Only one way to find out. _The archer told himself.

* * *

Clint pulled his jacket tighter around his body against the icy two of them stuck close to each building they passed, heading towards the hangar with a military-grade cargo plane parked on the runway outside. Now without the sun or the warmth of the van, the concrete walls provided the much needed shelter from the Canadian cold.

While Clint hoped for the best, there was no promising that he _wasn't_ being set up. All he had on the pilot was the few times he granted safe passage across the globe when he and Natasha needed it. SHIELD had always provided the few thousand dollars the pilot requested, but now Clint carried twice as much in unmarked bills in the duffle bag at his side with the knowledge that recent events would increase the price.

When the plane was less than a hundred feet away, Clint slowed his pace, motioning for James to do the same.

"I'll meet our man at the hangar, you wanna hold here and watch our backs?" Clint suggested, spotting a lone figure pacing in the dim light under the plane's wings.

James responded with a curt nod, stepping backwards into the shadows as he checked the safety on his sidearm.

Rolling his shoulders back, Clint snapped back into the familiar mindset of a mission and started towards the waiting pilot.

The archer ducked around the left wing as he approached, and the pilot stopped pacing in his presence.

"Agent Barton." The man greeted. "Nice to see you haven't gotten yourself killed yet."

"Houston. Thanks for doing this, I know it can't be safe for you these days." Clint said.

"Eh, never has been with SHIELD. Good to see your on our side though." Houston replied with a smirk.

_Our side._ Clint held back a sigh as he contemplated the meaning of the pilot's words.

"You too man. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure who to trust now."

"Fair enough." The pilot sighed with understanding. "You heard from Widow yet? Heard she was caught up in the D.C. mess. Kinda surprised I haven't given her a ride yet."

Something ticked in the back of Clint's head.

_This isn't right._

Thankfully, he was saved by the bell - or actually a piercing scream if he was to be specific.

The archer and the pilot turned just in time to see a heavy figure falling from the roof of the next hangar, both close enough to hear the disgusting _thud _as it made impact with the asphalt.

Adrenaline kicked in as Clint spotted the glint of metal from the roof top. His hand reached for his pistol at the same time as the pilot, but the gunshot came from elsewhere.

The pilot fell. Clint stepped back as a spray of blood hit his chest. The hole between the man's eyes was already spilling his blood onto the asphalt.

Knowing the source of the bullet, Clint risked a look back over the wing of the plane.

The sniper's position was good, a perfect view of Clint and the pilot, and was now occupied by James who scanned the area with a rifle.

_Not good enough. _Clint thought as he put bullets in the heads of two goons hiding in James's blindspot.

The archer remained tucked away in the hangar until James came swaggering towards him, a Barrett M82 hanging at his side.

"All clear. One sniper and six on the ground." The soldier made no attempt to hide his exasperation with a pointed look at Clint.

"Okay, well...yeah, that's on me." Clint scratched his head. "Well to be fair he seemed like a cool guy."

He didn't get an answer as James stared on.

"Hey did you _plan _to throw that guy off the roof?"

James's slightly irritated look turned into a full on glare.

_Oops. _Clint broke the man's gaze to look out at the plane behind them.

"Good news. I've flown that model before."

James finally turned away from Clint, to which the archer mentally sighed with relief.

"We'll need to sweep it for bugs first." Clint followed the man towards the aircraft, watching as he opened the door warily, and his pistol at the ready.

_So Hydra isn't as smart as they think they are. _Clint relaxed into the pilot's seat, scanning the multitude of buttons and lights before him.

The dingy cargo plane was deemed safe and Clint noticed James's shoulders loosen as the man sat behind him in the main cabin. While he looked physically stronger than that first night, Clint still saw the dark shadows encasing the man's face. Sleep had evaded them both on their little cross country roadtrip.

Before Clint could fully delve into the controls, James broke the silence.

"No I didn't _plan _to." James's head hit the back of the seat as he closed his eyes. "But when do things ever go to plan?"

When the archer turned back, James was smirking.

"_And_ I wanted to see how you'd react."

Clint started the engine. "Well it was _very _badass, If you must know. Natasha never let me do it because it was too '_Conspicuous'_."

Hearing the hearty chuckle behind him, the archer relished in his victory. Even if it was just one single laugh, it told him he had made a difference.

Clint grinned to himself as he lined up on the runway, looking ahead into the night sky before taking off.

_You're not getting him back now, Hydra._


End file.
